Maybe One Day
by Saltwater Romance
Summary: He was the only one she had ever given her heart to, and now she'll stop at nothing to reclaim it.
1. Chapter 1

**Maybe One Day**  
By Saltwater Romance

* * *

**Chapter 1:** Sambuca

* * *

It wasn't that he was anything out of the ordinary. In fact, his brown eyes didn't stand out against his tanned skin. His hair was shaved close to his head because he hated—absolutely hated—his curls. He had a crooked smile and a body that revealed the lack of time he spent at the gym. But dear god, the way he made her feel.

The way his calloused hands ghosted up and down her calves whenever they sat watching the sunset together. The way his breath hitched right before he tilted her face to meld their lips together. The way his long eyelashes brushed against her neck whenever he rested on her. The way his pulse and hers raced in tandem when they first held hands. The way he would look at her with a twinkle in his eyes and she would wonder why she ever thought that they were a bland color. The way his arm would sling around her casually when they were around his friends, but his grip spoke of proprietary.

He was a man of few words. So she held them close to her heart.

When he first saw her—truly saw her, his hands reached out as if he was helpless in face of the beauty of her flaws. He caressed her reverently. _You're beautiful_ he said, over and over until the words were branded in her soul.

He would never say anything just to comfort her or promise her the moon and the stars. But when she looked into his eyes—really looked—she knew that she was okay with that. He would move mountains for her.

So with that final thought about him, she tore up the last picture featuring the two of them as her dear friend grinned in approval, "See Anna. Doesn't this make you feel better?"

_Not really._

She offered a weak smile before her friend reached over to rub her back, "Anna. Sweetie. It's been over a year since you've last seen him. Remember how he severed all ties with you? Just up and left without a trace?"

_Yeah, and it hurt. _

She sighed, "I know Sumire. I know."

"Good," Sumire clapped her hands, and Anna knew that she was going to hear a lecture she's heard repeatedly over the past six months. It stung more than Sumire's previous mantra of getting laid and forgetting what a jerk Mochiage was because now she had to listen to the pity laced in the stunning lady's voice.

"I understand that he was the first guy that you let yourself be vulnerable around. And yeah, he had his sweet moments. But honestly, he was a world class jerk. And there are so many other men out there if you would just let go," Sumire sat beside her on the couch and touched her arm, "Honey, we've all been there, and trust me, in a couple months, you'll see that he was never worthy of you."

Anna snorted rather unladylike. Sumire and Mochiage didn't get along on sight. Sumire thought that he was unreliable and flaky and distrusted him completely. Mochiage thought that Sumire was overly demanding and catty and figured that Anna was being walked all over on. He thought that he knew best when he argued with Sumire; although the two thought they were like night and day, they were cut from the same cloth in actuality. They were both stubborn and unafraid to voice their opinions and defend their stances. And they both cared for her.

Sumire growled as she waved her hand in front of Mochiage's face, "Are you sure you can walk her home?"

"Yes," Mochiage crossed his arms.

Sumire narrowed her gorgeous eyes as she accused, "You're not even sober. How can I trust you?"

Anna placed her hand against her friend's arm, placating her, "I trust him."

"I swear. If I find even a single scratch on her tomorrow morning, I will castrate you," Sumire finally relented, albeit with a warning to Mochiage, "Not only that, I will kill your puppy and cook it in a stew and make you eat it. All of it."

Sumire then shot her dearest friend a concerned look, "Honey, call me if anything goes wrong okay?"

Anna laughed and they embraced, "Be safe, Sumire."

"Same to you," Sumire stared pointedly at Mochiage.

His face was a block of ice when they departed the party. Anna nudged his hand, "Is everything okay?"

"I can't believe she doesn't think that I can take care of you," Mochiage seethed. Anna bit back a giggle as he wobbled next to her. Her macho Mochiage. Maybe it would be her walking him home that night.

"Why do you let her treat you like that?" he glanced over at her; sober thoughts pouring out of a drunken mouth, "I'm sorry Anna, but she babies you. Correction. She tries to dictate how you live. That's not friendship."

Anna had shrugged off his words at the time, knowing that the two of them were only expressing their concern over her well-being. But a year and five months after his assessment, it was clear who really cherished her.

Sumire wore her I-just-swallowed-the-canary look, "Say. What do you think of heading to Koko's and getting him to fix you right up?"

_Doubtful_.

Anna still smiled and swallowed her apprehension, "I would love that."

She stood up, "Want me to drive or do you want to?"

Sumire laughed and grabbed her pocketbook, "You're blocking me in, Sugar. But I'll drive your car if you're not up to it."

Anna shook her head and confessed, "I haven't driven since I left for the school year, and you drive me everywhere. It's my turn."

That wasn't Anna's only reason. Sumire was hotheaded and impatient behind the wheel. Her guile was what saved her from three tickets this past month alone. Though she had yet to get into an accident, she still hit the brakes too hard and stopped the car too close to the one in front.

"Just don't hit the neighbor's truck when you back out," Sumire cautioned because Anna was the real danger to the streets; she was absentminded.

Fortunately, the two hopped out of the vehicle with all limbs attached forty minutes later. The bar was empty, typical on a Monday night. Koko was chatting with his manager when he spotted the two girls. He ran his fingers through the spikes of his hair, "Well, well, well. If it isn't my two favorite ladies."

Sumire sat on the barstool in front of him, "Blue Hawaiian."

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Koko cocked an eyebrow.

"Please."

He shook his head, and she rolled her eyes. She pulled herself up and leaned over to give him a kiss. He patted her cheek indulgingly, "Now, that wasn't too hard was it?"

Anna giggled, "Buttery nipple and keep the shots coming."

"Hello to you too, Anna," Koko grinned, but stayed still.

"I'm not kissing you," she laughed.

"Well, it was worth a try," Koko winked at her before ruffling her hair, "No tweakin Puerto Ricans?"

"Not tonight," Anna shrugged before teasing, "Tsubasa makes them better than you anyway."

He clutched his chest, "A bullet to my heart! I think I'm too hurt to even make these drinks now!"

Sumire grabbed the dishtowel hanging from his backpocket and snapped it at him, "Better get to it!"

"You are a slave-driver aren't you?" Koko growled.

Sumire smirked, "You can spank me when you get off shift."

He sent her a heated gaze before setting to work. Anna just chuckled at their interaction, already used to their unabashed foreplay.

"Do you want some of my drink?" Sumire tilted the straw.

"No thanks. Koko always puts too much vodka in it for me to care for," she preferred anything but that clear liquor, "Want one of my shots?"

It was Sumire's time to be disgusted, though she didn't bother to hide it, "Me and butterscotch really don't get along. It makes me nauseous sitting so close to you."

Anna didn't bother feeling guilty, "Your loss."

One by one, she tipped each shot into her mouth. She then stacked the glasses up and nudged them towards Koko, "One more."

"Anna. That was four in total. And you can fit into my pocket."

"It's okay, I have her keys," Sumire vouched for her.

Anna nodded, "I have the afternoon shift tomorrow."

Koko shook his head, "It's the law Anna, I'm sorry. I have to cut you off."

She frowned, "Koko. We've been beer pong partners. You know how much I can handle."

"We aren't teenagers anymore," he stood firm.

"I'll play you for it," she gestured to the billiard table.

Koko grinned, "And this is how I know you're drunk. Anna you suck at pool."

She didn't listen. She marched over to the table and racked the balls, "Do you want to break?"

Sumire egged him on, "You're chicken if you don't play."

And that solidified his decision. Anna broke, and she was solids.

"Beginner's luck," he frowned when she moved around him and hit the 7 ball in. That was three in a row now.

She shrugged and lined up her shot.

The 5 ball sunk in. Four in a row.

"Babe, you're losing. Bad," Sumire gloated from behind him.

The frown never left his face. How was Anna not wobbling?

After she narrowly missed hitting the 8 ball into one of the pockets, it was his turn. He managed to sink in two, but Anna only had two before she won the game. She knocked in last ball with ease and called out the pocket. She closed one eye and lined up her shot. The cue stick kissed the white ball, which knocked into the black one. She won.

"You hustled me!"

"Wouldn't dream of doing that," she slurred gleefully as she stumbled into the table. Sumire hid a smile behind her hand. The alcohol finally hit Anna's system.

"A bet is a bet," Sumire crowed, "What drink do you want, Honey?"

"Long Island Iced Tea."

Koko groaned. Of course she would want that. She might as well have asked for jungle juice or just drank straight out of the bottle. She's either going to wind up dead tomorrow morning or wishing she was with that hangover. Sumire patted him sympathetically, "It'll be okay. She's stronger than she looks."

They watched her carefully make her way to the bathroom, attempting to hide her wooziness.

"I hope so."

The bathroom for the women's room was a loud bubble gum pink, but at least toilet paper wasn't strewn across the floor and drenched in questionable liquids like the last time she was in there. She entered the first stall and did her business. When she walked out, she was face to face with a man. What else could she do besides shriek at the top of her lungs?

* * *

"My eardrums," the stranger sighed and adjusted his red-framed glasses.

"Serves you right," Anna replied back moodily, already finished with her drink.

Koko pressed his lips together to withhold a chuckle, "What were you doing in the women's bathroom anyway, Kitsu?"

"It's cleaner," he shrugged unapologetically.

Sumire laughed outright, "Anna, this is Koko's best friend, Kitsu. You can see how they ended up being friends, huh?"

Anna stabbed at the ice in her glass mutinously. She could have died from a heart attack! There was no way she wanted to play nice to the culprit of her scare. Sumire didn't mind, "He's a cook here."

Another stab.

"Is she always this friendly?" Kitsu stage-whispered.

"Nah, she's just a grumpy drunk," Koko answered back in the same hushed tone.

Kitsu looked affronted, "I should be the grumpy one! She busted my eardrum! I might be deaf forever."

That broke Anna's silence since her incident, "You can hear fine if you can respond to Koko's whispering."

It was like she never spoke.

"See what I mean? Gruuuumpy!"

"Man, I don't think I would want to see her sober. Mean drunk equals to a meaner sober."

"She's kicked my balls before," Koko affirmed.

"Ouch."

"Tell me about it. Then she had the audacity to _laugh_. _**Laugh**_!" Koko covered his face in remembrance, "I might never have the ability to have children again, and she just stood in front of me laughing!"

"Harsh."

"Sumire, let's go," Anna stood up.

"Goodbye sweetheart," Sumire waved as Anna tugged her along.

Koko stood up, "But what about your spanking?"

"Come over when you close up," Sumire blew him a kiss, and she exited the door.

"Kinky."

"I know," Koko waggled his eyebrows, "Jealous?"

"Very," Kitsu sighed, "Very."


	2. Chapter 2

**Maybe One Day**  
By Saltwater Romance

* * *

**Chapter 2:** Eau-de-vie Vodka

* * *

She knew something was wrong. He was just standing there, looking down at her—cross-legged, barefooted, and all. But she couldn't lie and say that she was unaffected. His eyes raked over her—part adoration, part lust—and she brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, shy about her bare face. But when his dimple peaked out from his smile, she could scarcely remember her own name, let alone her self-consciousness. Her heart constricted. He never looked any handsomer.

"Dance with me," he pleaded hoarsely.

She accepted his invitation.

She turned her back to him, preparing herself to move her hips in rhythm to the heavy bass and crass lyrics that he enjoyed listening to. Not that she minded—she preferred girls night out when she came home with her smoky makeup smudged and hair undone from gyrating with stranger after stranger to the hypnotic beat played by the DJ.

He shifted her to face him.

She glanced up, puzzled. He gripped her waist possessively and settled one of her hands against his chest. He held onto the other. Her heart thumped. They swayed to a sweet ballad.

"I thought you didn't like her," she murmured, referring to the singer.

He nuzzled her neck, "But you do."

He pressed his lips against the column of her throat repeatedly, and breathed, "God, you're beautiful."

She shivered in appreciation and stroked his chest, urging him to continue. He chuckled, and then dipped her.

She had been dipped once in her lifetime. It happened at her first and only western club. The man was 40 years her senior, but he moved with the grace of a twenty-something year old—she barely managed to keep up with his rapid movements. He had flipped her upside-down twice, earning applause from the spectators and dipped her at the close of the song. The alarm bells in the back of her head rang once again, and her eyes widened when that fact registered in her brain.

Mochiage didn't dance, and certainly not with her.

She sat up quickly, wincing at her pounding headache. How much did she drink last night?

She remembered the butterscotch, but nothing else besides the whiskey sound of Sumire's laughter and Koko's sly grins. What _happened_ last night? She shrugged unbothered; she wasn't the crazy type of drunk, and she woke up in her own bed… This time. But for some reason, her body felt stiff. She then glanced at her balled up fist.

She stretched her fingers.

It was as if her hand was trying to capture Mochiage's love before it ran off with her dream.

Forgetting him would be easier if he hadn't embedded himself so deep into her mind. She stood up because she was now an adult and not a teenager fawning over her beau; she had a job to get ready for. She must have moved too quickly because her stomach churned. She sprinted to the bathroom before what little of yesterday's lunch stained the carpet. She leaned her forehead against the porcelain, still feeling queasy, but not having anything to spew up. Today was going to suck. She worked at a restaurant.

She wanted to lie back in bed and bury herself in the sheets, anything to avoid the greasy smells that would inevitably distress her hungover body. It was a tempting idea, especially when she never called in late or needed a last-minute shift cover. She deserved to be bad once in a while. But three people quit last week, so her presence was needed.

She trudged reluctantly into the shower.

The uniform was cute, depending on which employee you asked. The girls wore red and white stripped dresses with an apron and hairband. The boys wore khaki pants, white-button down shirts with a bowtie, and a soda jerk cap. It was reminiscent of the 1950's, but whenever Anna went grocery shopping in her work clothes, people often confused her with a candy striper.

"I know I already sat you… But you have the only section that can fit an eight top right now," the host ran up to her, fiddling with the hem of her dress, scared to meet Anna's eye.

She smiled in spite of her nausea, "That's fine."

But it most definitely was not.

"Thanks," the chestnut haired girl gave her a huge relieved grin before scurrying off.

Anna rubbed her forehead as she went to grab the silver. As she set the forks and knives down, she greeted her customers and took their drink orders. Bile rose up her throat.

She wasn't going to last much longer.

She raced to the host stand, "Hey Mikan?"

"Yeah?" the pretty brunette looked up at her curiously.

"I'm hungover," Anna blurted, "I need to throw up. I have the eight top's drink orders right here. Can you please get it for them and ask someone to watch my section?"

Mikan nodded vigorously.

"Thanks."

Mikan was the host everyone wanted to work with. She always made sure the rotation was correct even though the managers told her not to worry when the count was off. She knew how to greet tables, ring up orders, and run food. She also knew how to clean tables better and quicker than some of the bussers and fill up the coolers with ice. She would make drinks for the cooks when the kitchen got too hectic and wipe the bar counter and fixed the stools when the bartenders were too busy. Even better, she didn't hesitate to stay behind to help the servers clean during closing when the other hosts went home.

She chalked it up to boredom. But she was genuinely sweet and was ready to learn the different aspects of the restaurant.

She joked that the only reason why she didn't become a server was because she was scared of dropping the trays of food. In confidence, she admitted to Anna that she was terrified of working for tips; she found comfort in a steady income. Anna then told her the truth afterwards. Mikan had a magnetic personality; she would have no trouble making at least $100 a shift.

Returning from the restroom, Anna found one of the managers waiting for her. His crimson eyes reprimanded her even before he opened his mouth, "You can't ask a host to do your job."

"I'm sorry."

"Remember that if you have to use the restroom, you need to tell a manager," he chided. The restroom was outside the restaurant since it was situated within the airport. She rolled her eyes; this wasn't an elementary school playground.

"I'm sorry."

He seemed satisfied with her apologies since nothing went awry during her absence and went to kitchen, more comfortable with helping the cooks than ensuring the happiness of the customers. A frown met her, "He's been moody since he came in; he never cares about that stuff."

"Probably didn't get laid last night," Anna shrugged. Natsume was notorious for wearing his sex life on his sleeve; whistling on his way to work whenever he got some action, but biting people's heads off when he didn't.

She added in conspiratorially, "But I heard that his baby mama and him are officially done!"

"No! I thought they were trying to work out their differences," Mikan's eyes widened, "How did you find out?"

"He was talking to some of the older staff," Anna ended the conversation to check on her tables after Mikan handed her back her swipe card. Food was already delivered to her two-top, the four-top was waiting on their check, and the eight-top was waiting on their food. Everything was running smoothly.

And she had to rush to the bathroom only two more times.

At the end of the night, she took home $140.

"Are you doing anything tonight?"

She glanced up from pouring the condiments, "Nothing in particular, why?"

Mikan sat across from her, "My final was this morning, so I wanted to do something fun tonight to celebrate."

"I don't have a fake," Anna sighed, months shy from 21.

"Neither do I! But I've always wanted to go clubbing with you!" Mikan grinned, "The other girls here told me that you're wild."

"Mikan, it's a Tuesday."

"Club going up on a Tuesday," she crowed off-pitched, "Got your girl in the cut and she choosy!"

Anna stayed quiet. Well, it was the summer. Typical clubbing rules didn't apply, especially when they lived in a city that thrived in its nightlife. She thought it through some more, "Alright."

Mikan hooted and started to invite everyone else who was left at the restaurant. The bussers were all underaged. Two servers had children. The rest declined because they would rather go to the bar than dance with the under-21s. Her grin deflated with each and every rejection.

Anna consoled her, "Why don't you call up Hotaru? And I'll text Sumire. I'm sure they would love to go."

Mikan rested her head on her arms, "No. Hotaru isn't into all that. The music does nothing for her. She would rather make money than spend it. And she doesn't dance."

Like someone else that Anna knew.

"We don't need a lot of people to have fun," Anna tried to cheer up the girl, "I might have a bottle of vodka in my car if you wanted to pre-game before we go."

Mikan peered over Anna's head without responding, "Hey! What are you doing tonight?"

The muscular figure shrugged, "Going to my bed."

"Want to go out with us tonight? We're clubbing!"

He ran his fingers though his hair, "Can't. I get my kid tomorrow bright and early."

"Oh," Mikan's expression fell, "Maybe next time."

Natsume chuckled, giving her a look that spoke of promise, "Maybe."

Anna swiveled around, interrupting, "Hey, can you check my section?"

"Go home if you already cashed out," he waved his hand before disappearing into the office.

The girls stared at each other.

Apparently, someone's mood picked up.

"He's like a hormonal teenaged girl," Mikan whispered, wide-eyed, "We should run for it while we have the chance."

Anna agreed.

"Do you have spare clothes in your car?" Mikan asked.

Anna snorted, "Of course. Do you need anything?"

"Maybe some heels."

They both wore size 6.

The two ducked into the backseat of their respective cars to quickly change before other people came into the parking lot. A mini skirt and crop top went a long way. Mikan frowned down at her body after Anna tossed her a pair of neon pink stilettos, "Do you think my makeup matches my outfit?"

"Nobody will be paying attention to your face," Anna assured her, "But you look gorgeous anyway."

"Thanks," Mikan grinned, "So do you! But you always do."

Blushing, and then shyly, "Here's the bottle."

"Girl! How is it not even open?!" Mikan cried out, "Ciroc is the best!"

"Anything but vodka for me," Anna shrugged, "I stay clear of most clear liquor too if I can help it. But someone got it for me because they didn't know that."

"Crazy," Mikan shook her head and swung the bottle to her lips.

* * *

"Honestly, I think that Natsume would be killer in bed," Mikan giggled, "Though, the bussers collectively are a handsome bunch."

Anna had to agree. With the latter, not the former. Natsume was too gruff and scruffy for her taste. He always had a shadow on his face, and he mostly spoke in grunts and biting sarcasm. She preferred her men earthy and honest.

"Yeah, the newest busser has to the cutest. His arms!"

Mikan vehemently shook her head, "Natsume beats them all. No contest."

"Oh, yeah? With his red eyes?" Anna chuckled, "He's like half albino!"

"Hey! You're one to talk Miss Cotton Candy Hair!" Mikan pouted.

Anna arched her eyebrow, not missing a beat, "So the uniform comes off and the gloves come on, eh?"

Mikan immediately colored.

"Me thinks the lady doth protest too much," Anna kept teasing.

When Mikan didn't reply, Anna winked over at her, "It's okay, it'll be our little secret."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"Good," drunken grin, "Because I bet that he gives really great head."

"Mikan!" Anna almost stopped the car in shock. Never did she think that those words would actually tumble out of Mikan's mouth. Sumire? For sure. Hotaru? Yeah, to shock others. Herself? Yeah, she was too old to get embarrassed anymore. But Mikan? The sweet and wholesome host? Never ever ever ever. Not even if the girl gave birth to ten kids.

"Anna," Mikan said almost patronizing, "You can't sit there and tell me you don't think about that stuff."

"Of course I do," Anna defended herself, "But I never thought that you would!"

"I worked with Akira Tonouchi almost every day before he completed his bachelor's," Mikan had that 'duh' in her tone.

"That corruptor."

"Not really. He was the only person who has ever talked to me about sex and stuff," Mikan huffed, "Everyone else treats me like a kid. Hello? I'm about to be a sophomore in college. No college kid stays an innocent… Unless they live under a rock."

She had a point.

But still…

"But Natsume?" Anna shivered. He was attractive, she supposed. He was handsome in a brooding way, and she could see how being a single father would be appealing to others—showing that he had a softer side. But why would someone pick Heathcliff over Mr. Darcy? Call her boring, but she preferred men who were outright with their intentions and wanted to woo their lovers instead of a guy who was obsessive and got off on abusing others and exacting revenge.

"Yeah. Wakako thinks that he's a dominant in bed and into spanking and all that. I think that he's the emotional type. Like you can't just leave without feeling something and vice versa," Mikan stared out the window, "I bet he's traditional, like the missionary only type and his idea of wild is letting the girl get on top."

Anna choked on her spit.

"Uh, I know this is fun for you and all," Anna began lamely, "But Natsume is our manager. I really don't want to see him and think of sex."

"How can you not? It's not like he's old and ugly! He's only a couple months older than you!"

"Uh. He's not exactly my type."

"Okay, so about that," Mikan turned, "A lot of people think that you're secretly a lesbian."

"Who?"

"A couple of the servers, but I don't think so. I think that you're just picky."

Anna laughed, "You could say that."

Mikan unbuckled her seatbelt, "I'm glad you could come out tonight. I hope you meet someone. And prove those gossipers wrong!"

"Do you need help?" Anna scurried to the passenger side to make sure that Mikan could function in heels.

Mikan waved her away, "I'm fine."

That she was. Mikan danced with anyone that came into her vicinity without stopping or removing her heels. Anna had to commend her; she, herself, always wore flat shoes to club in, even if the dress code was strict. The latest guy had his arms snaked around Mikan, but she didn't seem to care, only interested in sipping the blue drink in his hand.

The man that Anna was with was getting too handsy for her taste. After he tried to stick his hand under her bra, she walked away. He grabbed her wrist, but she had already latched onto someone else and had her back pressed against him. Fortunately, the new man had enough common sense to shoo away the creep. To thank him, she rubbed herself against his hard body. The beat got slower and more seductive and so did her hips. She brushed against his friend.

She smiled.

That didn't take long.

She repeated that motion, and she felt a groan.

He didn't push her head down or try to change her pace; he gripped her waist just right and moved in sync. His hands wandered up and down her torso, but he never tried to get overly friendly. The second song came on, and she bit her lip, knowing that she should walk away—one dance per guy. No more and no less, unless he bought her a drink. But she couldn't help it. It felt good to feel his heat radiating off of him. She felt secure, especially after he got rid of handsy.

She turned around and wrapped one leg on his backside. Not missing a beat, he grabbed her other leg and hauled her up against him. Her legs locked behind his waist, and they swayed. It felt good to get off of her feet. When she looked up, she choked for the second time that night.

"Want to get out of here…Anna?" his breath tickled her ear. She shuddered automatically in response, her body treacherous, but she felt ice in her veins.

Mochiage.

Mochiage was back in town.


End file.
